Steve Werlin

Reviewer Steve Werlin:
Steve is a freelance writer and editor living in New Haven,
Connecticut. Â He holds a PhD in Religion from the University of
North Carolina at Chapel Hill and a BA in Archaeology from Tufts
University. Â Steve's reading and writing interests broadly cover
religion, history, culture, archaeology, and the environment. Follow Steve's work here

In 1900, New Haven,
Connecticut followed a national trend in waste disposal by feeding
5,400 tons of garbage to pigs. In the US, disposable diapers make up
roughly 2.4% of the total buried trash by weight. Shea Stadium was
built on a landfill. There is a garbage dump in L.A. County large
enough to serve as a graveyard for twenty times the current world
population of elephants (should the need arise). Americans throw
away 694 water bottles per second and use enough plastic wrap yearly
to shrink wrap Texas (again, should the need arise).

This is just a small
sample of the quirky—and occasionally useful—facts peppered
throughout Edward Humes’s latest monograph of journalistic
activism. I characterize it as such because although Humes writes
like a journalist, his work constitutes in no way disinterested
reporting. In his unapologetically environmentalist approach, Humes
aims to (a) describe a problem, (b) glorify the troubleshooters, and
(c) identify solutions for the future.

The problem: trash.
Americans create way too much of it—about 7.1 pounds per person per
day—and mostly by design. Over the course of the twentieth
century, Americans traded in the common sense strategy of reusing
everything, buying little, and saving lots for a disposable economy
that rewards designed obsolescence, encourages unnecessary spending,
and relies entirely on the creation of waste. In Part 1, Humes takes
us on a journey from the 130-million-ton landfill of Puente Hills, to
the ash-filled, horse-carcass-lined streets of pre-World War I New
York, to the Great Pacific Garbage Patch. Representing an unequal
portion of the book’s chapters, the “problem” is more than
enough to turn stomachs, drop jaws, and shake heads. The reader is
left wondering what can be done.

In Parts 2 and 3, Humes
answers. First, he highlights those who analyze the problem: the
innovative trash trackers from MIT and the daring
archaeologists-turned-garbologists from the University of Arizona,
all studying how much trash we create, where it goes, and what
happens to it. Then, in Part 3, Humes focuses on four entities
endeavoring to address the problem: trash-picking artists, plastic
bag naysayers, vigilante municipalities, and a zero-waste crusader.

Garbology is a fascinating
read for those interested in either the economic shifts that enabled
America’s “102-ton legacy” of trash or the recent history of
waste disposal in our country. But is it an insightful indictment
that will shake us to the core and spark a zero-waste revolution?
Nah. And here’s why: Although Humes expounds upon the strategies
of municipal, state, and federal authorities, his ultimate
conclusion—and the book’s overarching message—is one of
individual responsibility. In the final pages, the author lists five
things we can each do:

(1) refuse unnecessary
junk; (2) acquire used and refurbished products rather than new;
(3) never buy bottled water; (4) stop using plastic bags (the
“gateway drug” of trash); and (5) consider the entire life of
a product and the real cost of ownership.

This is some excellent
advice that we should all heed, and the idealist in me will (and
does). But the realist in me reads Humes’ words with a heavy sigh.
Personal responsibility is a wonderful notion, but it’s not one
with which Americans have a great record. Most important changes in
our nation’s history have come about as top-down decisions. As a
group, we generally don’t do the “right thing” on our own,
otherwise we wouldn’t have needed such important legislation and
bureaucracy as the Environmental Protection Agency, the Civil Rights
Act, or the Nineteenth Amendment. Our history suggests that real
change is brought about by a minority of voices led by charismatic
activists or daring political leaders. The progressive “cultural
shift” of the masses comes much later.

There are also problems
with the book’s presentation that will irk some readers. For
instance, despite being laden with interview-driven anecdotes,
Humes’s book was surely research-intensive, at the least requiring
many hours bounding from website to website, if not library stack to
library stack. Unfortunately, there is little citation. The book
lacks any sort of bibliography or suggestions for further reading.
The endnotes amount to only three-and-a-half pages and omit notes
entirely for six of the twelve chapters. (Not a single endnote is
referenced between pages 76 and 190.) The reader would have
benefited greatly from a list of websites, too. Neglecting to
provide the resources and tools limits the readers’ ability and
impetus to do any further reading and discourages would-be allies
from confirming the information.

Despite these criticisms,
Garbology is an enjoyable and thought-provoking read. The anecdotes
and historical accounts are entertaining, the facts and figures are
staggering, and the players are admirable. (I repeatedly found
myself reading sections aloud to whomever was in earshot.) If it was
the author’s goal to generate some critical discussion on our
problem of waste and waste management, raise awareness, and help move
forward the wheels of change (however little), then mission
accomplished.